Taming the Highlander. Terri Brisbin

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      “Nay, my lord.”

      “Ailsa was told to see to your needs. Did she not bring you food?”

      “She followed your orders, my lord, but I fear I was too tired to do anything save bathe and sleep.”

      He grunted at her words and asked no more questions. Her thoughts were suddenly filled with her brother and her appetite fled. Her spoon clattered on the table as images of him in some filthy cell, injured and hungry, raced through her mind. Her distress must have shown for she gained Connor’s attention.

      “Are you ill? The blood has just drained from your face.” He leaned over and stared at her.

      Jocelyn did not know how to respond. She had already challenged his honor about her brother once today and he would without a doubt see any more questions as another attack. Given his reputation for taking offense and defending his name, she feared what would happen to her if she asked the questions that burned within her.

      She never knew what revealed the truth to him, but in the next moment, he stood with a speed belying his size and knocked over his chair. As it toppled behind him, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her from her stool. Without a word of explanation, he dragged her from the table, out of the hall and down a corridor toward the back of the keep. Her struggles lasted all of a minute since his advantage in size and strength and intentions overwhelmed her efforts to resist their motion. Yanking open a door in the wall with such force that the door banged against the stone and shook on its frame, Connor lifted a torch from a sconce and led her into a dark tunnel.

      The air grew thicker and more humid as he dragged her farther and farther along the passageway. Jocelyn could not see past him and could not gauge how much longer they could travel along this corridor. Connor slowed momentarily and then he began to walk down some steps. Where did he take her? Had her defiance cost her her life? She struggled against his hold trying to slow his pace.

      “I do not expect you to challenge my every word and action, lady wife. You are like a dog gnawing on a juicy bone. You will not give it up until you are forced to it.”

      “My lord…” she began.

      “Here now. This is the last time I will be so lenient with you.”

      Grabbing her by her shoulders, he shoved her forward until she was looking into a small cell. The dungeon. Her brother. Pushing up onto her toes, she peered into the room until she saw her brother lying on a small pallet in the far corner. Even when she called out his name, he did not move.

      “You may have five minutes with him, not one more. Duff,” he said to a guard she had not noticed before, “Bring the lady back to the hall when her time has passed. And she is to remain out here and not enter the cell.”

      “Aye, Connor.” The tall man, rightly named for his dark hair and eyes, nodded at Connor.

      Without another word to her, but with a glare that clearly expressed his aggravation, Connor turned and walked away leaving her where she stood. Jocelyn turned back to the door and called out her brother’s name once more.

      Connor shook his head in disbelief at both his wife’s behavior and his own. When he’d summoned her to the hall, he had no intention of letting her see or speak to her brother. He intended to stand by his words and by their marriage agreement—her brother would be released as soon as Connor had wedded and bedded her. But something in her eyes as she challenged him and his honor made him change his mind.

      He was mindful that she had literally given up her life to save her brother’s. He knew also that she was terrified of him. However, he realized that she controlled her fear and continued to push him on the matter of young Athdar. She might be more offended if she discovered the truth of how she came to be married to the Beast MacLerie and her brother’s part in it.

      Reaching the main floor, he strode back to his seat and tore off another piece of bread. It was only a few moments before he noticed the quiet of the room and then saw the shocked faces of those staring at him. They thought he’d imprisoned her? Slamming his fists onto the top of the table, he rose to his feet and let his gaze pass over those in the room.

      “You cannot blame them, Connor,” Duncan said. The humor in his friend’s voice did not please him. “You have cultivated your own reputation and use it when necessary. Do not hold it against them that they now believe the worst about you.”

      “And you, Duncan?” he asked, taking his seat. “Do you not believe it? Do you think I have imprisoned my wife below, even as I hold her brother?”

      “If she continues as she has begun, I think you may wish that you had locked her below.”

      Connor nodded, understanding Duncan’s comment completely. In her first day here, she had already caused him to change his mind several times. When he sent Duncan to her father, he envisioned a marriage that would have her in his bed at night and out of his way during the day. He knew undoubtedly that he could never love another woman the way he had loved Kenna and so he accustomed himself recently to the idea of simply marrying to fulfill the clan’s need for an heir. If he did not let himself care for her, if he kept her at a distance, he could guard his heart from ever having to experience the agony of loss again.

      Somehow he now knew that this wife was going to be more trouble than he bargained for. As if his thoughts had conjured her up, she entered the hall with Duff at her side. She kept her gaze on the floor as she walked back to the table. Her next action stunned him.

      Stopping before him where all could see, she dropped into a deep curtsy with her head bowed and eyes still lowered. Her voice carried throughout the hall, filling the silence with her words.

      “Your pardon, my lord. Please forgive my earlier rash behavior in questioning your honor.”

      Connor felt his throat tighten and he could not swallow the mouthful of ale he had just taken. He did not sense anything but a sincere apology in her words. That this was done for show was obvious to him, but he knew with a feeling of certainty that it was honestly meant. He swallowed forcefully.

      “Join me, lady, and break your fast.”

      She rose smoothly to her feet and slid onto the stool next to his chair. He held out a loaf of bread to her and she took it, her fingers brushing his as she lifted it from his grasp. Connor watched as she moved the bowl of now-cooled porridge away and broke off a chunk of cheese instead.

      “Ian? Bring the lady another bowl of porridge. Hers has cooled.”

      “Nay, Ian. I do not need any more.”

      She challenged him again, even while the words of her apology still echoed through the hall. He closed his eyes for a moment and then let out his breath. Glaring at her in her defiance, he repeated his order to the servant once again.

      “Is this to be the way of it, then? I give an order and you disobey it?”

      Part of him wanted to laugh—at the least, she was no empty-headed ninny as he feared he would be forced to marry. Although his well-developed reputation served him, it also caused women, and some weak-nerved men, to lose their wits around him. If he had to be married, he was inwardly pleased that she did not shrink from him and his every word. But, as laird, he could not, would not, have every order he gave undermined by her.

      Jocelyn finally met his gaze and he watched her expression СКАЧАТЬ